


Amore a Prima Suono

by TheRatcatcher



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: 18th Century, F/M, First Meetings, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 19:17:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10725531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRatcatcher/pseuds/TheRatcatcher
Summary: A wannabe prima donna is ousted from her opera company, while a hopeful composer needs a singer to showcase his music. When they discover each other, an unparalleled musical partnership is formed. But will something more develop between them?





	Amore a Prima Suono

**Author's Note:**

> I hope to remain as accurate to 18th century Italy as possible, but I'm definitely not an expert so apologies in advance for any historical/language errors.
> 
> Enjoy!

The sights and sounds of Florence, Italy dazzled the senses of Maestro Jiao Peng from the moment he stepped shakily off the ship that had brought him across the ocean. Now, an entire hour later, the man still found himself in awe as he rode in a carriage through the city’s cobbled streets. Everywhere he looked, something new astounded him. Though the young maestro’s studies had been in music and not architecture, the beauty of the buildings that lined the roads took his breath away. Beautiful people bustled past wearing vibrant colors and towering wigs, making him feel underdressed in the simple brown suit he had purchased in an attempt to match European fashions. 

“We’ve arrived, Signore,” the driver said as he slowed the horses pulling the carriage. They came to a stop outside of an apartment building, and Jiao paid the driver before stepping out. Satisfied, the driver spurred the horses and rode off down the street, leaving Jiao carrying a small trunk in one hand and a piece of paper in the other.

The young composer had to stop for a moment to keep himself from becoming too overwhelmed. He itched to explore the beautiful city, to discover new secrets and spectacles that awaited him. Already, he could hear the beginnings of a new piece forming in his mind, and he was eager to try and capture the essence of this city with pipas, guqins, and bamboo flutes. Or he could begin penning a letter to send to his friends back in China, as he felt as though from his first hour alone in Florence he could fill a library’s worth of pages with all he had experienced. But Jiao forced himself to pause. As anxious as he was to experience Florence, he knew that there was someone important he had to find first.

He thought back to a day several years ago when the correspondence between him and this important someone had begun. A composer who lived all the way in Italy had written him a long and incredibly flattering letter lauding an opera Jiao had written, a copy of which had somehow made its way to Italy. The two men had continued to write back and forth, exchanging stories about their lives as composers in their respective countries and discussing their latest pieces. They had never met in person, but after the critical and financial success of Jiao’s latest opera, he had the money to arrange a sabbatical to Italy and meet in person the man with whom he’d been corresponding for years. The last several letters that they had exchanged were filled with excitement as the pair planned what they would do once Jiao came to Florence.

There was an obstacle that Maestro Peng had to overcome before he could meet the Italian composer, however. His friend had included in his latest letter the street and building number of his current residence, and it was in front of that building where Jiao was now standing. He was able to enter through the front door without a problem, but his friend had neglected to write the room number of his residence in his letter.

Seeing no one in the halls on the first floor and not wanting to knock on every door to ask where he could find his friend, Jiao climbed the first flight of stairs to look for a tenant that might be on another floor. At first the second floor seemed just as empty as the first, until a young woman burst out of one of the rooms. The sound of the door slamming open startled Jiao at first, but he managed to catch the woman’s attention.“Mi scusi, Signorina,” he said, putting into practice the Italian he had spent the past several years refining. “Could you tell me which of these rooms belongs to Maestro Cadenza?”

The woman whipped her head around to glare at him, her face flushed with anger. “You’ll find him right in there, the conceited snob,” she huffed, pointing at the door that she had just come from. Tucking some stray strands of auburn hair under her powdered wig, the woman looked Jiao over with a dismissive sniff. “Don’t waste your time with him. He’ll throw you out before you can sing four notes.” With a last baleful scowl at the door, she pushed her way past Jiao and stormed down the stairs.

Jiao opened the door a crack and looked through it. The room was small and clean, if a bit cluttered. Jiao noticed stacks of music staff paper resting in stacks atop tables and chairs. Among them, a man in his mid-twenties sat slumped over a harpsichord, his head in his hands. Poking his head further through the door, Jiao called out to the man. “Maestro Cadenza?”

The figure at the harpsichord looked up. “Maestro Peng!” The man’s face brightened when he saw who was at the door, a smile forming under a curled brown mustache. At his enthusiastic greeting, Jiao let himself into the room and met the man halfway for a friendly embrace. Cadenza kissed him once on each cheek before offering placing a hand on his shoulder. “Welcome to Florence! How was your journey?”

“Dreadful,” Jiao shuddered at the memory of churning waves and screeching gulls that had dominated the last several weeks of his life. “I may stay in Italy forever if it means I never have to set foot on a ship again.”

Cadenza grimaced in sympathy before giving his companion a good natured pat on the back. “Well, at least you can say it is over. And it is good to finally see you, amico mio,”

“It’s wonderful to finally see you too. Although it seems I have come at a bad time.” At Cadenza’s confused expression, Jiao clarified. “I met an angry looking young woman outside your door before I came in here.”

The Italian maestro’s expression soured immediately. “Ah, so you ran into Giulia.” Cadenza shook his head in disgust. “You poor soul. If you had the misfortune of hearing her sing, then I will pray for your ears.”

Jiao began to grin, his eyes shining with mischief. He could imagine only one situation in which a beautiful young woman would stomp angrily from a man’s home. “You never mentioned in your letters that you had a lover, Signore.”

Cadenza smiled back at his friend. “I don’t wish to disappoint you, but she isn’t my lover. She is one of many singers I’ve had to let go in the past few months. A tone-deaf amateur with the zeal of a dead cat.”

This unflattering comparison left Jiao amused and curious. “What do you need a singer for?” he asked.

Cadenza sighed. The question apparently put a damper on his good mood. “I have been given a chance to perform my music for some of the wealthiest aristocracy in Florence. I’m due to play for them in a few months, and I need a singer to accompany me.”

This explanation confused Jiao. A rising composer should only want the best performer possible for an event like this. An impressed wealthy attendant at this performance could easily become a generous patron for Cadenza. “Why would you hire an amateur for something as important as that?”

“The local conservatory claimed that she was one of their best. Clearly I was wrong to trust their judgment.” Cadenza rolled his eyes, dismissing some of the finest musical minds of Florence with one gesture. “I need a singer capable of performing my music flawlessly if I have any hope of advancing in my career. Anything less would be mockery of my abilities as a composer.”

Jiao knew that, had he not been receiving letters from this man regularly for the past few years, most of them including some hints of egotism from the Italian musician, he would have laughed out loud. “Perhaps a singer with a lower voice would be more suited to your compositions,” he suggested. “Have you considered taking on a male vocalist?”

“Men, women, or any other gender of singer I’ve encountered. It doesn’t matter.” Cadenza threw his arms up in the air with exasperation. “They are all equally hopeless. I swear they are like demons sent to stop at nothing to smother my artistry.”

“Very dramatic.” Maestro Peng said, finally unable to hide his amusement. “Perhaps you could spin that into your next opera’s libretto? I can see it now: a genius composer stifled by a horde of slightly-less-than-perfect singers. When designing the costumes, be sure to include a set of horns.”

Cadenza frowned, not appreciating the gibe. “I’m glad you find the demise of my musical career so amusing.”

Jiao did laugh then at the pout that stuck out from beneath Cadenza’s mustache. “Put those ‘demons’ out of your mind for tonight,” he said. “I have eight months to take in all the Italian musical world has to offer, and I won’t spend my first night here watching you sulk.” When Cadenza looked as though he might begin to protest, Jiao cut him off. “Your search for the perfect singer can wait until tomorrow, can’t it?”

Cadenza smiled despite himself at his friend’s enthusiasm. “I suppose you’re right.” He thought for a moment before speaking again. “May I suggest an opera after dinner tonight? It will be nice to surround myself with competent singers for once.”

“That sounds perfect,” Jiao said. He thought himself lucky to have such a musically minded friend in this country of renowned culture. How exciting to see for himself an Italian opera!

Cadenza, meanwhile, had more on his mind than a night of entertaining his friend from abroad. While his faith in the directors and instructors at the local conservatory had dwindled since the last few disastrous singer he had been recommended, it could still be worth listening to as many voices as he could. Perhaps someone had enough of a musical ear to cast a lead singer that could one day perform his music. And if it so happened that someone from the company would surprise him with their vocal talents, then Maestro Peng could hardly fault him from making a discovery on their evening out, could he?


End file.
